


Matsuhana Week 2017

by h_lovely



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Matsuhana Week 2017, Wedding Fluff, consensual teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_lovely/pseuds/h_lovely
Summary: Day 1: music//relationship goalsDay 2:competition//pettyDay 3:romantic gesture//fairy taleDay 4: in danger//leaving homeDay 5:food//scienceDay 6: children//bondsDay 7:on video//surprises





	1. relationship goals

**Author's Note:**

> My collection of drabbles written for [@matsuhanasweek](https://matsuhanasweek.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr!

“Shit, it’s Kato.” 

Hanamaki stiffens against the back of their booth after the bitter words have left his mouth, but next to him Matsukawa just smirks. “Ah, the cliché run-in with cheating asshole ex-boyfriend,” he hums thoughtfully once his eyes have landed on the root of Hanamaki’s discomfort. “Want me to punch him in the face for you?” 

Hanamaki actually ruminates on the offer for a few seconds. “No,” he finally decides with a sigh of great regret. Since when had acting like a rational adult been something in his wheelhouse? 

“Okay,” Matsukawa agrees. And then, “Want me to kiss you?”

Hanamaki doesn’t exactly sputter like his brain harasses him to, turning on Matsukawa with a thin, quirked brow instead. “Come again?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Matsukawa quips, slipping the off-color joke in with little more than a twitch of his lips. “Do you want me to kiss you so he sees?”

Hanamaki’s mind feels suddenly flooded, but not with rushing uncontainable water, no more like fucking molasses or something. “Um,” he says rather eloquently. He turns to catch another glance at Kato only to find the man laughing (that horrible, horrible fake laugh of his) at something his presumable date has just said. 

 _Poor guy,_  Hanamaki thinks. Maybe, if he was more inclined, he would go over there just to warn him away from such an inevitable and devastating mistake.   
But then, for an infinitesimal moment, Hanamaki catches Kato’s eye like the man is in fact watching him while pretending (definitely pretending) to woo his date. So, in a fit of irrational impulse, Hanamaki turns back to Matsukawa. 

“Okay,” he nods. “Do your worst.”

Sat in the booth as they are, knees knocking and side-by-side (that much better for people watching together) it isn’t too hard for Matsukawa to lean in and dignify the request with a soft mouth pressing against Hanamaki’s own.   
It’s not as though either of them are virgins when it comes to kissing (or other more advanced techniques) but the heat that invades Hanamaki’s insides, flushing outwards to spread a hue of pink over his cheeks—that’s definitely something new. 

Matsukawa starts with chaste, closed-mouth kisses, nothing strange there, nothing to really dislodge or upheave their friendship; these kisses are just for show, just for Kato’s stupid eyes to see. But then, on instinct Hanamaki reaches forward, that new and bewitching heat boiling over, until he’s tugging against Matsukawa’s neck, bringing the man forward and demanding something more. 

Obligingly, Matsukawa opens his mouth to run a careful tongue against Hanamaki’s lower lip, asking, and Hanamaki opens to him responding in kind. Dipping a tongue against Matsukawa’s own he pushes forward, tasting sharp teeth and a gasp from the other’s throat that neither had been quite expecting. It’s exhilarating and when Matsukawa closes the space between them, the space hidden by the table, and creeps a hand up Hanamaki’s thigh he suddenly can’t breathe. 

Why the hell hadn’t they ever done this before? 

Matsukawa’s sucks on his lips, ensuring that they will be swollen and kiss-red, all the better to spite his asshole ex hopefully ogling them from across the way, Hanamaki assumes. The hand on his thigh tightens and Matsukawa threads his other fingers through the soft hair at the back of Hanamaki’s head with the pretense to pull, but instead his touch his gentle, appreciative. 

Hanamaki can’t begin to guess how many seconds, minutes, hours have gone by, but when Matsukawa finally pulls back he looks up to find the man’s dark eyes watching him carefully for a response.

“Damn,” Hanamaki breathes out, unapologetic. “Hashtag relationship goals.”

It takes a second to register, but then Matsukawa’s thick brows quirk in disbelief. “Did you really just say the word ‘hashtag’ while I’m trying to kiss you?”

“Trying?” Hanamaki blinks, still dazed. “You just did—shit, Issei, do you know how good you are at that?”

Matsukawa gives him an all too smug look in return, but the way his full lips curve up doesn’t exactly have Hanamaki wanting to smack him. Actually, more like he wants to lean in and—

“Okay, Kato’s not looking anymore,” Matsukawa says with a glance over his shoulder. “You’re in the clear.”

All of a sudden, Hanamaki’s throat feels dry. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” Matsukawa nods, giving him a pointed look. “Wanna let go now, Takahiro?”

Hanamaki hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto Matsukawa’s neck, keeping him close. Of course, Matsukawa hasn’t removed that teasing palm from his thigh either. 

Hanamaki looks at his friend with earnest determination. “No, I really don’t, Issei.”

“What?” Matsukawa blinks down at him and Hanamaki watches for the exact moment that things click into place behind those hooded eyes. “Oh,” Matsukawa says dumbly before moving quickly to pull Hanamaki even closer. “Oh,” he purrs then, letting the sound vibrate across the other’s lips. 

Hanamaki kisses him back eagerly, that intoxicating heat from earlier returning full-force, before he pulls back with a smirk of his own. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

Matsukawa’s frown does nothing to hide the affection in his gaze. “Shut up, Takahiro.”

Hanamaki complies, if only because it gives him an opportunity to steal another kiss. 


	2. competition

The volleyball slams onto the court, sending the wrinkled water bottle flying through the air until it skids to a stop with a hollow echo.

“You got lucky,” Matsukawa calls; the jab had been resting on his tongue the entire serve, considering he knew what the outcome would be.

Hanamaki gapes at him from across the court. “Luck? It’s called skill, Issei.”

Matsukawa quirks a brow. “If it’s skill then do it again.”

With a grumble Hanamaki stalks to retrieve the ball, though they both know that the teasing is all a part of the game. They wouldn’t have made the wager in the first place if their competiveness and teasing was anything more than good natured. 

Iwaizumi pokes a head in through the gym door. “Are you two finished yet?” 

Matsukawa’s eyes shift across the court, the net, the gym; it’s almost like old times if he doesn’t think too hard on it. “You know a couple of years ago this would have been you, Grand King,” he says, finding Oikawa’s wide, shining eyes behind Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

Oikawa immediately grimaces, gagging. “Don’t start that again,” he grumbles. “Besides, Iwa-chan won’t let me anyways.”

“You really want in on that bet?” Iwaizumi snorts. “Laundry for a month? Would be pretty tough considering we live all the way across town.”  

“Hey!” Hanamaki shouts, ready at the serving line once again. “Can we get back to focusing on the real competition here?” 

They’ve been there for a couple of hours now, if the pinkish light filtering through the windows is anything to go by, and Hanamaki’s done nothing other than taunt Matsukawa the entire time until he finally agreed to fulfilling at least one bet between them. Of course, no one on their former Seijou team had been weak in serving, but it had always been more of Oikawa’s or even Iwaizumi’s thing back then. But Hanamaki had posed the challenge and Matsukawa, still after all these years, always did have a hard time saying no to him. 

“Yes, so sorry to have broken your service-ace grade concentration,” Matsukawa drawls, but there’s affection there too.

Hanamaki grins, all teeth. “Shove it, Issei.” 

“How many in a row does he need to win?” Iwaizumi and Oikawa make their way over to watch with Matsukawa, having already changed back into street clothes with the promise of dinner as soon as Hanamaki’s apparent need to win is satiated.

“Four—that’s as many as I could pull off in a row,“ Matsukawa answers. “So actually five I guess to beat a tie.”

Oikawa knocks into him with his elbow. “Only four? Mattsun’s gotten soft in his old age.” 

“If I’m old, you’re older,” Matsukawa answers without missing a beat, eyes still lingering on Hanamaki’s form as the toss goes up, smooth and high. Beside him Iwaizumi chuckles appreciatively and Oikawa deflates in a pout.  

The ball slams down again, like Matsukawa knew it would, and Hanamaki whoops as Oikawa yells out a few over exaggerated praises and cheers. It’s nice to spend time with old friends, messing around on the court, in their old stomping grounds and reminiscing. But what he enjoys most is seeing Hanamaki’s smile, wider and more genuine than he’s seen in a long while and Matsukawa decides that they definitely need to do this more often. 

Two more serves hit home, echoing through the gym, and Matsukawa takes the time to watch the planes of Hanamaki’s back through his damp shirt, the way he twists and rolls his shoulder and it’s so reminiscent of their youth—but Matsukawa wouldn’t go back in time, not for a second, because these are the moments he likes the best; here and now, together, with no pressure, no hiding, no secrets. 

“You ready, Issei?” Hanamaki calls over his shoulder, fitting him with a serious scowl that he can barely hold in place over his amusement.

The toss goes up and the sound of Hanamaki’s palm against leather snaps through the gym, but Matsukawa’s already cheering before the ball can even hit the water bottle. 

He’s ready, he’s always been—after all, he’d already won the only competition he ever really cared about anyways.  


	3. romantic gesture

The air is heavier, pricking with a wet chill that it hadn’t been when they’d walked from the train station to the movie theater just a couple of hours previous. Hanamaki stares out the wide double doors of the front entrance, watching the rain collect in spotted webs and patterns against the tinted glass.  

“Didn’t know it was supposed to rain,” he mutters before tilting his head to glance over the shorts and t-shirt combo he’s sporting. “I did not plan accordingly.”

Next to him Matsukawa hums a laugh in his ear. “And earlier you made fun of me for being over prepared,” he chuckles. “What was it you called me—a boy scout?” 

Hanamaki’s lower lip protrudes in some semblance of a pout as he side-eyes the man. Matsukawa, for what it’s worth, only makes a show of brandishing his compact umbrella for a couple of I-Told-You-So seconds before he drapes a heavy arm across Hanamaki’s shoulders.

“I’m willing to share,” he says, genuinely and Hanamaki can’t help but hate him a little for it. 

“That thing’s way too small for two people, Issei,” Hanamaki complains readily, gesturing to the small, black umbrella in Matsukawa’s hand, looking like it’s about to spring open at any moment. “I’d rather get drenched than look like an idiot.”

“Since when has looking like an idiot ever stopped you before, Takahiro?” 

Matsukawa smiles and even though his words are a jab, there’s something uniquely affectionate behind them that only Hanamaki can detect. 

“Very funny,” Hanamaki bites out, with a distinct lack of bite. “Remind me why I keep you around again?” 

“Because, unlike you, I always plan accordingly.”

“That’s because you’re an old man and actually like watching the weather report at the ass-crack of dawn.”

Matsukawa ignores him in favor of studying the heavy streaks of rain pummeling the sidewalk outside. “If we share, we’ll both be at least fifty percent dry by the time we get home.”

At this point Hanamaki has to admit that Matsuakwa is probably right, but where’s the fun in that? He puffs up his chest a little, meeting Matsukawa’s half-lidded look from the corner of his eye. “And if I refuse?”

“You won’t be coming into the apartment until you dry off,” Matsukawa replies easily, like the answer had been resting on his tongue, preconceived.

Hanamaki deflates at this, furrowing his brows. “Issei, I’m not a dog.”

Matsukawa turns fully to him then, grabbing for Hanamaki’s hand and lacing their fingers together firmly. “You’re not,” he agrees and then, “That’s why you’re going to accept my romantic gesture so we can go home already.” 

“You’re no fun,” Hanamaki grumbles. Matsukawa opens the door for him, the smell of musty rain and fog assaulting their noses. “What happens if that puny umbrella breaks?”

Matsukawa, puny umbrella already open and in hand hovering over them, reaches an arm around Hanamaki’s waist to pull him forward, stumbling into his chest. Hanamaki looks up at him, a bit startled, but definitely not complaining anymore. 

“Then we’ll both have to find a way to warm up and dry off together,” Matsukawa leans down to murmur against his lips. 

The entire way back to their apartment, Hanamaki has to fight the urge to grab that damn umbrella and snap it into a hundred pieces. A little rain never hurt anyone anyways, right? 


	4. leaving home

“The truest test of a relationship,” Hanamaki says in his most professional sounding voice. “Is loading and unloading a HiAce together.” 

Matsukawa stares at the large, rectangular van before them warily. It’s not as though this is their first rodeo when it comes to moving. There was the trip from Miyagi to Tokyo for university, their first apartment together (that tiny godawful studio with the stunning city views), their second apartment (the ‘what a wonder a steady paycheck makes’ apartment), and their third place, the one they stood before now with a rented Toyota HiAce and the keys to a moderate, ramshackle condo on the other side of town.

“I think I might actually miss this place the most out of all of them,” Hanamaki mutters next to him and Matsukawa knows that there’s genuine nostalgia there, but also he’s definitely stalling considering the amount of things they’ve accumulated together over the years since the once simple move to university. 

It’s going to be a long, long day. 

“ _’We’re adults now, Issei,_ ’” Matsukawa says in his best impression. “ _’Adults do things like file their own taxes and buy condos together._ ’” 

Beside him Hanamaki eyes him with a fabricated scowl. “It’s the truth. Does that mean I can’t be sad about leaving home?”

Matsukawa shrugs. “I like the new place better.”

“Issei, think of all the memories we’re leaving behind!” Hanamaki gasps, clutching at Matsukawa’s arm before crumbling into poorly contained laughter.

Matsukawa meets his amusement with a smile. “We’ll just make new ones,” he says, surprising even himself with such a level of sap.

But, even if the opportunity to make fun is there, Hanamaki just grins up at him. “Is this where I’m supposed to say something like, ‘anywhere is home as long as it’s with you’?” 

The words are cheeky and satirical, but somehow they warm through Matsukawa all the same. 

“I think we’re going to have to do some downsizing,” Matsukawa drawls, staring at the van. 

“Not a chance,” Hanamaki counters. “Everything we’ve got serves a purpose or a memory.”

“I can’t believe you can ever part with anything, even a crappy little apartment.”  

“Hey, like I said, home is with you.” Hanamaki pokes him in the chest.

Matsukawa gives him an unimpressed look. “Then I think you can leave some of your creepy little plants behind.”

Hanamaki’s eyes widen comically. “Issei, they’re like family!”

Twirling the keys to the van around his finger Matsukawa grins. “Come on, let’s start testing this relationship.”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki leans into him with a hum. “I can’t wait to be home.” 


	5. food

“What are you doing tonight?” Matsukawa asks, staring the contents of their refrigerator. “Wanna go out and get ramen and gyoza?”

“Or,” Hanamaki counters with that look in his eye that tells Matsukawa exactly what’s coming next. “We can stay in and  _I’ll_ cook.” 

Matsukawa turns to him, pretending to mull the idea over. “Do you even know what’s in Tantanmen?” 

Hanamaki pouts. “Always so little faith.”

“Just because you google something doesn’t mean you know how to make it.”

Hanamaki gasps, too loud. “Rude!”

Matsukawa hides his urge to laugh with an unimpressed look. “Okay there, Oikawa.”

Hanamaki grimaces through a flush. The likeness to their friend’s actions had really been uncanny. “Issei—”

“You can cook, Hiro,” Matsukawa hums and Hanamaki brightens instantly before he adds, “But I’m not promising that I’ll eat it.”

Instead of deflating though, Hanamaki just pushes past him into the kitchen; the argument isn’t much of an argument after all, considering they have it nearly every single weekend. 

Even though Matsukawa likes to poke fun, Hanamaki is in fact a fairly decent cook. Matsukawa enjoys bringing up the time when their kitchen almost burst into flames and Hanamaki enjoys reenacting the story and then blaming it all on Iwaizumi (which is mostly the truth of it anyways). Matsukawa likes to watch Hanamaki chop vegetables too fast and Hanamaki likes to chatter while doing so, which of course always prompts Matsukawa’s hasty reminders to pay attention and those affectionate looks Hanamaki tosses out when he thinks his boyfriend’s not looking anymore. 

But Matsukawa is always looking, really how can he not? A watched pot never boils, but Hanamaki’s always seems to anyways and Matsukawa loves to see the look on the man’s face when the kitchen starts to humidify with that warm, spicy fragrance that means dinner’s almost ready. 

It’s not exactly a ritual, but Matsukawa looks forward to it every week just the same. 

“Up to expectations?” Hanamaki sniffs as he sets a full, steaming bowl in front of him, the scent of sesame and chile oil wafting between them. 

Matsukawa nods before bothering to taste it, watching Hanamaki stab at the noodles with his chopsticks. “Perfect,” he says and Hanamaki grins. 


	6. bonds

“Hiro, have I told you how hot you look in that suit?”

“Yes, actually, about hundred times now, but keep going,” Hanamaki grins. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

The music playing is soft and slow and their movements, intertwined together, match the languid, romantic air around them. Of course, that doesn’t mean that the intimate conversation between them has to match—and it seems, even on a day like this, they can’t help themselves but to indulge in a little well-placed teasing. 

“Everywhere, hm?” Matsukawa’s eyes darken. “How about we skip the rest of the reception then—that suit would look even better on the floor of our hotel room.”

Hanamaki nearly chokes, though the words are both flattering and arousing. “Issei, this is our first dance,” he hisses softly. “And your mind is already in the gutter.”

“Are you really that offended?”

Hanamaki shakes his head, chuckling. “Not really. Actually all I care about right now—other than  _you_ , Issei, of course—is cutting into that cake.”

Matsukawa gives him a look, adjusting his footing. “Fair warning, I’m definitely smashing a piece of it in your face.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Hanamaki says. “As long as I get to eat it, I don’t care where on my body you smash cake.”

“Oho?” Matsukawa quirks a thick brow. “Who’s the dirty one now?”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes affectionately. “Is that an idea for later? The frosting looks especially delicious.”

Matsukawa’s eyes flick over to the cake resting beautifully on its glass pedestal, iced in delicate white and dressed with a few dark green wreathes of olive leaves. “More like a promise,” he whispers warm in Hanamaki’s ear. 

At this Hanamaki hums a laugh. “I wonder what they think we’re talking about up here.”

As they turn together both of their eyes scan the small crowd of guests littering the tables and chiavari chairs scattered around them.

“Probably think we’re whispering sweet, romantic nothings.”

“But we are,” Hanamaki nods, leaning in to place a chaste kiss against Matsukawa’s mouth. “Who’s to judge our idea of romance?”

“You’re right. It’s our wedding, we can say whatever we want.” Matsukawa leans into him, pulling the hand across his lower back tighter. “So Hiro—I cannot wait to get you back to that honeymoon suite and strip you out of this handsome suit, slowly, one piece at a time.”

Hanamaki can’t hide his blush, but he does curve his jaw over Matsukawa’s shoulder in an attempt to. He smirks, feeling his body warming wherever Matsukawa’s hands touch. “Jesus, Issei—why did I marry you again?” he smirks, soft laughter rumbling between them.

Deadpan, Matsukawa shrugs. “It took a lot of convincing.”

At this Hanamaki pulls back but his hand on Matsukawa’s shoulder tightens as they sway together. The music fades in his ears as he studies his husband’s face, eyes bright. 

“Not too much,” he confirms, smiling.

And Matsukawa smiles back as the song’s final notes play out. Then he dips Hanamaki, unceremoniously, fitting his mouth over Hanamaki’s to capture the surprised yelp before kissing him deeply amidst a crowd of whistles and applause that neither can be bothered to hear anymore. 

Not too much convincing at all. 


	7. on video

“I miss you.”

Matsukawa frowns against the urge to laugh. “You saw me this morning,” he reminds the man staring at him through the rectangular screen of his phone pointedly. 

Hanamaki only blinks, unphased. “What time is it there?”

Again Matsukawa must reign himself in. “We’re in the same time-zone.”

Fitting him with an entirely endearing head tilt Hanamaki grimaces. “How many more hours?”

“Hiro, you act like we’ve never been apart before.” Matsukawa watches Hanamki’s lips pull down into an actual pout and he sighs, doing some quick math in his head. “I don’t know, like thirty-seven hours.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Like half of that is sleeping.” Matsukawa frowns for real this time, squinting at the laggy video-picture of his phone. “What’s the big deal, Hiro?”

“Can’t I just miss you for no reason?” His voice sounds tinny through the small speakers, but Matsukawa can tell that it’s genuine. 

“Yes,” he confirms with a nod. “I miss you too, you know.”

Hanamaki’s lips perk up into a wide, familiar grin. “I know, how could you not? I’m very missable.”

Matsukawa raises a brow, adjusting a bit and making it so that Hanamaki can see his finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button. “Okay, you seem fine now, I’m going to bed.”

On the other end Matsukawa can hear Hanamaki shuffling, like he’s trying to reach for Matsukawa through the phone. “No, no wait! Don’t hang up. It’s not the same as in person, but I still like talking.”

“I wish the connection was better,” Matsukawa agrees, squinting again at the shadows splaying over Hanamaki’s grainy features. “And where are you even? It’s so dark I can hardly see your face.”

For once during their call Hanamaki looks a bit guilty. “Um—well I’m at Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s place.”

Matsukawa smiles, humming. “Ah, now I get it,” he says rather smugly, now able to recognize the shadowy shapes of their friend’s bedroom behind Hanamaki.

“No you don’t, there’s nothing to get.” Hanamaki gets that pouty face again and Matsukawa knows this time he’s not doing it on purpose, but rather it’s a natural expression. It’s one that makes him wish he could lean in and kiss it off Hanamaki’s lips.

Instead his smile just morphs into a knowing smirk. “You’re with the lovebirds and you’re jealous and that’s why you’re missing me so much.”

“Hey, I resent that! I’d miss you either way, Issei,” Hanamaki gripes, though Matsukawa can see the sharp edge of his teeth when he grins wide and plastic. “You know, because I  _love_  you. Or has the distance between us already made you forget—“

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” Matsukawa chuckles raising his free hand in surrender for Hanamaki to see through the screen. “But, you are pretty cute when you’re jealous.”

Hanamaki deflates a little at that. “They’re  _cuddling_ , Issei. Right in front of me, kissing and everything. It’s disgusting.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I was there to make fun of them with you.” Matsukawa gives him a stare of the truest solidarity. 

“Yeah and out-cute them.” Hanamaki grimaces, looking a bit woebegone and Matsukawa can’t get over how adorable it is even with all the poor lighting. “I need my partner in crime and over-exaggerated PDA.” 

“Thirty-seven hours,” Matsukawa says simply.

Hanamaki nods. “Thirty-seven hours. Call again tomorrow night?”

“Of course—or you can take me out there and we can still try to out-cute them, even over video chat.”

“ _Issei_.” Hanamaki’s grin widens exponentially, still fuzzy through the poor connection. “This is why I love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” Matsukawa replies before thrusting his arm in the air, a grand gesture even on small scale video. “Now take us to the living room! We’ve got work to do.” 

“Three hundred and some odd miles ain’t got nothin’ on us,” Hanamaki snorts, shaking the phone with his laughter. 


End file.
